Obsession
by ChaoticReverie
Summary: The future looks bleak, especially for Arcee. - Sequel to 'Attentions' - Meg/Cee - WARNINGS INSIDE
1. Chapter 1

**S** **equel to 'Attentions'. For those of you who have yet to read it, I would suggest taking a minute. It's just a oneshot, so it won't take long to catch up.**

 **HEY YOU!: This story involves noncon, dark themes, and torture - mental and physical. You have been warned.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters featured on the show. I am not making any kind of profit from this. It is written for your enjoyment and mine.**

It grew harder and harder to pull herself from recharge every morning, Arcee noted grimly, though whether it had to do with her depression or the near-empty state of her fuel tank she couldn't be sure. Switching her optics online, she glanced around the barren expanse of her makeshift hideaway, noting that the sun had already risen. Light was filtering through the cracks of the dilapidated building she had claimed as a shelter, glinting faintly off the tip of her right pede.

She twitched the wary appendage, pulling herself up slowly as she gauged her energon levels. They were dangerously low, and while it would be enough to last her a few more solar cycles, she had no way of knowing when she might get her servos on more. Venting heavily, she decided it was time to head out again.

Shifting into altmode, she slipped through a hole in the wall – one that seemed to be getting bigger every time she used it. The foundation of her shelter was likely beginning to give way, and she grimaced internally at the notion of having to look for a new place to lay low.

'For the best,' she told herself. 'Probably get spotted if I stick around much longer.'

Weaving through debris, she took to the alleyways, not wanting to remain in open areas for any length of time. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted city. She slipped from one to the next, letting them conceal her, using them to drift through the empty streets.

It was quiet - always was, the hum of her engine only pronouncing the silence. Primus, how she _hated_ it. Roughly five orbital cycles of silence had her loathing the lack of sound, the lack of _life_. At one point she'd enjoyed it, even looked forward to what little time she could get to herself. Now, it served only as a reminder of how they'd failed.

Failed Optimus. Failed their friends. Failed the Earth… and all of its inhabitants.

The ruins thinned as she drove on, and soon she could see the city limits. Once she passed that boundary she was exposed and vulnerable, with nothing to shelter her from there to the treeline – a ten mile drive. It didn't seem like much, but during dark times such as these, every instant presented a danger.

Arcee steeled her resolve and accelerated, bittersweet nostalgia overtaking her as she recalled a time when solo rides like this had brought her a sense of peace. The wind sliding around her frame, the road stretching on before her, her troubles stripping away as she sped onward. There was none of that pleasant feeling now, only the desperate anxiousness to reach the other side of the gap, along with the prickling tingle of fear along her struts.

Every nano-klik felt like an eternity as she drove, the treeline steadily growing closer. Paranoia had her checking her mirrors often, though luck seemed to be on her side this morning. Not a trace of life could be detected, but she knew how quickly that could change. The ever vigilant Seekers would come; she only hoped that by the time they did, she would have the cover of the forest canopy to shield her from their optics.

Time stretched on, and – as they tended to when she was driving for more than a handful of moments – her thoughts drifted, the face of her former partner passing behind her optics. He'd loved these long, quiet drives, when they'd had no place to be. What had once been a source of great enjoyment for the both of them now brought her little else but pain.

Her spark clenched sadly, and she forced herself to ignore it. If she had any hope of survival, of possibly lasting long enough to find the scattered, surviving members of their faction, she couldn't let her emotions get the better of her.

'You can't extinguish without first avenging them,' she reminded herself.

It had taken her some time to recover from their passing, her spark shattering yet again. For so long she hadn't even attempted to piece herself back together, feeling so lost and so empty. Yet, after a while, she'd come to the realization that none of them would have wanted her to go on like this. Tailgate, Cliffjumper, Jack, Miko, Raff, Optimus… they would have wanted her to keep going. That thought alone had lifted the veil of despair she'd been smothering herself in, had pushed her to move on, even if it hurt every step of the way. They were gone, but the others were still out there, somewhere.

The trees grew nearer, the towering pines blotting out the sun as she approached. A small amount of tension dissipated from her frame as she slipped beneath the cover of their branches, light filtering through the thin, bristled boughs in jagged patches, glinting warmly against her paint. Caution never completely abandoned her, however, and she had every reason to be wary. While she would be much harder to spot from the air, the roads through the forest were endlessly winding, and trouble could be lurking just past the next bend.

It wasn't long before her audio receptors picked up the angry rev of engines, and she veered sharply off-road and into the brush. The trees were tall and narrow here, hardly providing adequate concealment. She went as far as she dared before tipping onto her side and skidding to a stop behind one, cutting her motor, and staring fixedly at the curve of the highway just ahead. She only hoped that they would overlook her at this distance.

Two black cars – drones – appeared from around the corner, and she watched with a fluttering spark as they passed, never slowing. The pair drove straight by her prostrate form, carrying on down the road until she could no longer see them.

She vented in relief, transforming and pushing herself up on shaking limbs. The wary femme waited another handful of kliks before approaching the highway, considering how wise (or unwise) it would be to continue travelling via pavement. While it was certainly faster to drive, there was no way of knowing when the next patrol would come, or whether she would be so lucky a second time. It would be safer for her to keep herself from plain sight, even if that meant covering less ground.

Turning from the road, she slid back into the trees, moving as quietly and as quickly as she was able in this form. She didn't know how far it would be to the next settlement – or rather, what remained of it.

Again, guilt lanced through her, leaving a bitter taste on her glossa. After the incident on Cybertron, the Decepticon's presence on this planet had been made known, and Megatron had wasted no time in crushing any and all who acted against him. Mass devastation had been dealt out across the globe as a warning to all of mankind, towns and cities reduced to rubble, leaving vast expanses of the Earth barren of life. It had been so very long since she'd last seen a human.

And it was her fault, in part. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but she had to live long enough to make up for her failure. If she could find the others, even one or two…

'Don't get ahead of yourself,' the sceptic in her reminded. 'You have to find a new shelter first, and an energon source to get you through the next few solar cycles.'

By the time the sun was at its zenith she was beginning to tire, and there were still no signs of a suitable lodging. Travelling at such a pace in this form was incredibly taxing, and Arcee doubted she could continue on much longer. If she had any hope of making good time, she would have to chance the road again – it was her only option at this point.

Just as she was about to change course the wind shifted, bringing with it the smell of something unexpected. Smoke. Her optics widened, and she turned to glance at the sky, peering through the mess of branches for the spiralling grey cloud she knew she would find. Hope and caution warred within her spark when she caught sight of it. It could mean humans… or it could mean Cons. Both scenarios presented their own set of dangers, though they also presented opportunities. If the source was man-made, there was a chance she could find shelter within their midst. She would simply have to sneak in unseen and then remain in her alt-mode for the duration of her stay. Since the attacks had begun, humans were not overly keen of Cybertronians - factions mattered little.

If the smoke turned out to be from some kind of Decepticon operation, it would give her a chance to steal supplies… so long as she didn't get scrapped by the lousy fraggers first.

She slowed as she neared, crouching low to the ground as she scaled a small rise. Peering over the top, she balked at what she found. An Autobot ship… in a very sorry state. Judging by the damage to the hull - and the deep gouge it had left in the soil - it had been shot down. This wasn't the first ship she'd come across, though all of the others had been cleared out before she'd arrived. Some had belonged to their faction, others to the Decepticons. She didn't know if Megatron had sent out some kind of signal as of late, but it seemed the traffic to this planet had increased rather substantially since the incident on Cybertron.

The ramp was open, and all manner of supplies were lined up in an orderly fashion around the smouldering wreckage. Among them were the bodies of the pilots and passengers, all offlined… poor things. They hadn't stood a chance.

Then, the blue femme caught sight of something that made her double take. A stockpile of energon cubes – unguarded – was stacked amid the pilfered supplies. She didn't know if the ones looting were still inside, but she _did_ know that she only had a handful of nano-kliks to make a move. She couldn't take it all, no, but even a few of them would last her three or four orbital cycles.

She did a quick sweep of the area, and – finding it clear – she began descending the slope, her gaze fixed on the ship. The instant her pedes reached the bottom of the incline she sprinted desperately toward her goal, a triumphant grin touching her lip components for the briefest of moments before being replaced by a grimace of shock and agony.

Painful jolts pulsed through her frame, paralyzing her instantly and sending her crashing to the ground. The sensation subsided, and her vision began to fade, her audio receptors faintly picking up the sound of a raspy chuckle.

'A trap,' she realised far too late, her senses dimming. 'How could I… have been… so stupid.'

Turning off the stun setting, the hunter propped his gun against his rotator-cup, smirking as he assessed their latest catch. "I told you one of 'em was bound to come crawling outta the woodwork if we left it out a little longer. Something like that is too tempting to resist if you're an Autobot on the run, barely scraping by."

His larger, heavily armoured companion nodded in agreement, optics brushing lazily over the two-wheeler. "It's been a good haul; six bodies and a ship full of goodies. You can't get much luckier than that."

The shorter one snickered, levelling his weapon at the fallen femme. "Too bad for you, sweetheart, looks like your luck's run out."

"Don't you think we oughtta search her file first?"

"The others were all nobodies."

"She wasn't with the others. Look her up, BlackOut… just in case."

Venting in annoyance, the smaller mech lowered his gun, pulling a data pad from his subspace and switching it on. Scanning her prone frame, he waited as the device scrolled through files, brow-ridge quirking when a match appeared. He ignored the knowing glance his companion sent his way and opened it, though the contents were not at all what he'd expected them to be.

"Whoa."

"Find something interesting?"

"Looks like this little femme was part of Team Prime. She must've pissed Megatron off somethin' bad; says here she's wanted alive," the dark mech hummed as he read. Powering off the data pad and slipping it back into his subspace, he chuckled as he regarded their new captive. "This just isn't your solar cycle, two-wheeler."

The larger of the two bent and lifted her from the ground, hauling her up into the crook of one scuffed grey arm. "I'll take her to the ship. Let's get the rest of this loaded and be on our way."

Gripping the handle of a palette, BlackOut followed after his partner, the stack of cargo floating smoothly along behind him. "I hear Megatron pays handsomely for those on his 'most wanted' list. Maybe we can get a few upgrades outta this exchange."

Huffing in agreement, Gearbox shifted his hold on the slack captive, admitting, "I could use some new bearings; mine are starting to wear."

"You think too small, my friend. I'm referring to firepower," the sleek mech taunted.

"A new canon won't do me much good if I can't lift my arm to use it," the tall, grey bot fired back, scuffed brow-ridges furrowing.

BlackOut laughed as he shadowed his partner up the ramp.

Arcee struggled to pull herself together, the muffled sounds of conversation keeping her clinging to consciousness. She tried moving, but her entire frame was numb, the effects of the stun-shot still present. A sudden jostling, and the feeling of something hard and cold against her back seemed to jolt a bit of awareness into her, and for a brief moment she was able to online her optics. Two blurred forms came into view, their voices somewhat stifled, but audible enough for her to pick out a few words.

"Ho ho! Looks like... a fighter."

She flexed a servo, testing her range of movement. If she could just get her blaster out…

"Another shot…... do it."

The searing burn of electricity through her circuits had her rearing up, denta ground together as the charge had her sensors flaring painfully. When it finally subsided, she instantly slipped into oblivion, all vestiges of wakefulness gone in an instant.

BlackOut smiled. "Sorry, but we can't afford to have you slipping away on us."

Gearbox propped her against the wall. "I'll cuff her up, just to be sure."

"Good. Now let's get moving. Best not keep the boss-bot waiting."

…

 _Bolts of blue energy screamed through the sky, and Arcee felt her spark seize in her chest as she watched it disappear into the funnelling green vortex above. The Earth… how could he?!_

 _Before she or any of the others could react, Optimus had separated from the group, reclaimed his weapon, and was charging furiously toward his adversary. Holding tightly to the canister Jack was sealed in, there was little else she could do but watch as their leader bypassed the warlord, and proceeded to do something none of them had expected. He destroyed the Omega Lock._

 _The shockwave from the explosion nearly swept her from her pedes, but Bulkhead's steadying servo kept her grounded. Regaining her wits, she peered through the smoke, venting in relief when she saw Optimus approaching._

 _The sound of Megatron's foreboding laughter made them all pause, the Autobot leader turning to gaze questioningly at his wounded enemy._

" _You've saved no one, Optimus, you've only delayed the inevitable. Humanity will fall, starting with your precious little pets."_

 _Movement from the corner of her optic drew her gaze to the tyrant's second in command, whose narrow faceplate was split with a sinister grin. He withdrew something from his subspace, and dread flooded her processor as she realised it was a detonator._

" _No!"_

 _Her plea went unheeded, the seeker pressing one long talon against the activation switch. The canister in her servos emitted a rapid beeping, her optics snapping to Jack's terrified face as he realised what was happening a second before the bombs detonated._

 _The next few moments seemed to happen in slow motion, her body flying through the air as the force of the blast threw her. She met the ground hard, screeching to a stop amid the fiery debris. Her helm was ringing, her vision blurred, but she still managed to pull herself up. The damage to her frame was minimal – a handful of minor lesions – but she noticed none of them. All she could focus on were the blackened marks where she, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee had been standing, the ground bare save a few, small pieces of twisted metal… but there were no bodies. No trace of Jack, Miko, or Raff. The children… they were gone._

 _Bulkhead's pained cry was the most deeply disturbing thing she'd ever heard, the large wrecker wailing in despair as he stared in horror at the charred surface. Her gaze drifted to Bumblebee, who was staring at his trembling servos, helm shaking in denial._

 _An all too familiar pain welled up inside of her, and her legs buckled beneath her._

" _What have you done?"_

 _Optimus' quiet utterance drew her attention. His expression – his ever steady expression – was distorted in shock and disbelief. She'd never seen their leader look so lost before._

 _A dark form appeared behind him, and she tried to call out, tried to warn him, but the words were lodged in her voice box. She watched, mortified, as Megatron appeared through the smoke, rearing back and then plunging his only servo through Optimus' back. He let out an agonized shout, pain tensing his frame, and the smiling warlord leaned in over his arched form._

" _Your time has come, Prime. One shall stand, and one shall fall."_

 _He rent his razor-tipped servo from their leader's body, energon painting the tyrant's chestplate and fauld with brilliant blue spatters. His fanged grin widened, and his hellish red optics shifted to catch her gaze. She knelt, frozen beneath his stare, horror paralyzing her._

 _She heard some of the others cry out as Optimus fell to his knees, his life's fluid pooling beneath him. He raised his helm, taking a moment to look at each one of them, before ordering Ratchet to open a bridge. The portal opened, but none of them made a move toward it, each rooted to the spot._

" _Go," he instructed, his voice quiet._

 _No one moved._

" _Go!" he said again, pleading more loudly._

 _His optics met hers as they began to dim._

" _Please."_

 _She was torn, her processor a riot of confusion and her spark twisting in pain. Yet, as she heard the words leave him, she knew they had to listen. She didn't know what they would do – what they_ _ **could**_ _possibly do without him – but right now they needed to get out of here, or everything they'd sacrificed would be for nothing. The deaths of their allies could never be avenged. Megatron could never be brought to justice. They had to go, and they had to do it now._

 _She pushed herself up again, forcing her pedes to move, trying not to let the agony of their losses weigh her down. She stumbled first to Bumblebee, wrenching him up along with her. He followed, and it took both of them to get Bulkhead off the ground. Smokescreen came at her command, his optics never leaving Optimus. He hesitated as he neared the spacebridge, and she took hold of his servo, tugging him along._

" _Optimus," he started, still refusing to look away._

" _He gave you an order, soldier," she reminded him, finally breaking his stare. He seemed afraid when he glanced down at her, and she tightened her grip, reiterating his orders. "Let's go."_

 _With one final glance at his kneeling form, they both sprinted into the portal, despair darkening their sparks as it closed behind them._

…

Arcee jolted awake, trembling as the last vestiges of memory faded. It wasn't the first time she'd relived that horrific event during recharge, but it had been some time since it last haunted her. The pain in her spark fluttered to life anew, having been dampened slightly over time.

The two-wheeler laid back, venting hard, and thought about the others; where they might be, if they were still alive. She hadn't seen a single trace of any of them since they had split up. She'd been the last to leave through a ground bridge, apart from Ratchet, who had insisted she go before him. Given his grieved state at the news of Optimus' passing, a part of her felt it was likely he hadn't left at all. But she couldn't be sure, not really. She could only hope she was wrong.

She shook her helm, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. Times were dark, and she had to keep on going, for Optimus. He had sacrificed himself so that they could live, so that they might succeed where he hadn't.

The small femme closed her optics and renewed the vow she had made to herself all those orbital cycles ago; to never let her sorrows get the better of her, to keep on fighting for the Autobot cause. She would find her team, and they would finish what their beloved leader had fought so valiantly for. She would see her loved ones avenged, and all the inhabitants of Earth and Cybertron liberated from the warlord's oppression.

Arcee clenched her servos as she reminded herself of her purpose, her focus so rapt that she missed the sound of a door opening, missed the other presence in the room until his deep, dreadful voice shattered the silence.

"Finally awake, I see."

Her optics snapped open, instantly locking onto the massive form looming in the doorway, his red gaze piercing her.

"Welcome to DarkMount."

 **Blah! This took so much longer than I hope it would. Yuck. My month has just been… hell, honestly. But, it's a new month, and my muse is feeling productive as of late, so let's hope that she isn't planning on being as fickle and flighty as she usually is.**

 **Hope you all liked it, considering how long you had to wait. TT^TT**


	2. Chapter 2

**We get a little glimpse into what our favorite villain has in store for the heroine...**

"I trust you are feeling well?"

The small room suddenly became ten times smaller as her captor stepped through the threshold, his immense size filling much of the space. His deep, mocking tones boomed all around her, and the two-wheeler winced at the sound of it. She maneuvered up onto her pedes and glared defiantly at him as he approached, his amused leer making the anger within her burn all the more brightly.

Arcee withheld a scathing remark, pulling fruitlessly against the bonds that secured her servos behind her back. She knew the likelihood of her weapons still being accessible was slim, but she tried them anyway, and scowled deeply when nothing happened.

Seeming to know what she had just attempted, Megatron let a raspy chuckle slide from his voice box.

His approach did not cease at the entry, and he loomed ever closer, forcing her to back away in turn. The tips of her winglets met the wall of the cell, and she flattened herself against it as best she could, never once averting her gaze. The Decepticon tyrant stopped within arm's reach of her, and when he knelt she tilted her helm to the side, trying to put as much distance between them as she was able. Having her servos cuffed behind her back made it difficult to do, her frame arching outward a little too invitingly.

The hulking warlord reached out with one claw, faintly tracing the mark he'd left on her chest plate. His red stare slithered over her, taking in the gently sloping curves of her slight, _slight_ frame. She was so small, his little captive, but delightfully defiant. His gaze wandered lazily to her face – which was currently turned away from him – tracing the thin, blue border that outlined her expressive optics.

His servo lifted minutely, talons grazing her lip components. "Lovely."

"Don't touch me," she hissed, trying to repel him.

His smile was smug, brow ridges tilting as he reminded her, "Not that long ago you engaged me in single combat so that I might grace you with my attention."

She frowned. "Not this. This was never what I wanted."

He rose, taking a step away from her and clasping his servos behind his back. "What you want is no longer important. You belong to me now."

She withheld the immediate urge to deny him, but instead chose a different tactic. Meeting his gaze again, she observed, "I would have assumed you'd be the type to want subservience from your subjects."

"You would be correct in your assumption," he verified with a nod.

Pushing herself off of the wall, she ventured, "Then why me? I hate to disappoint, but I've no plans of betraying the Autobot cause. You're wasting your time."

Another low chuckle was her response. "As luck would have it, time is something I now have in abundance, and I am a patient mech."

Arcee tried another avenue. "Have no other femmes added themselves to your ranks? Surely, amid all those who've arrived recently, there must have been at least one other?"

"Indeed."

"Then why not enlist them for your… _entertainment_? I'm sure they would be more than happy to scrape and bow to you."

Megatron narrowed his optics as he regarded her. "Precisely, which is why I've no interest in the likes of them."

The two-wheeler blinked up at him curiously.

"I've no intention of indulging sycophants. Despite my current status, and no matter how high my title may climb, there will always be a gladiator at the core of me, and a gladiator loves nothing more than a good challenge."

Where she'd been somewhat confused before, the blue femme was now completely baffled. Shaking her helm, she spat, "You're not making any sense! You said you wanted submission, but now you're saying you want a challenge?"

The dark grin that split his faceplate was all teeth, and Arcee was instantly wary.

"You see, my dear, the fight is half the fun, and it only makes victory that much sweeter." He unclasped his servos, lifting one in her direction – talons splayed as though reaching for her. "Submission that is given freely isn't half as gratifying as the kind that is gained through… other means."

As he finished speaking his clawed digits curled into a fist, which he then dropped to his side. Two drones filed into the room behind him, along with the Decepticon medic, who shot a devious glance in her direction.

"I will very much enjoy breaking you, Arcee. Taking you apart, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of who you once were. When you are at your lowest, I will build you up again, and mould you to my liking. Then you will be all too eager to obey me," Megatron promised darkly, relishing the fearful glint he caught in her expression.

His own countenance turned mockingly sullen as he shifted away from her. "I wish I could stay so that we might… _begin_ our little game, but unfortunately I am otherwise occupied at this time."

He lifted one brow ridge as he glanced at her from the corner of his optic, his mournful facade instantly melting away as he purred, "I will, of course, return at the earliest convenience."

The small femme felt fury lance through her as he turned to leave, and she cried out at his retreating back, "I don't care what you do to me, I will never bow! Nothing could ever bring me to care for you!"

The towering warlord laughed outright at her mistake, looking back over one spiked pauldron as he clarified, "It is not your adoration I seek. I want only your obedience."

Striding from the cell, he paused only a moment to issue a command to the smirking medic. "Ensure she is properly prepared, Doctor. I wish to begin as soon as I am able."

Tipping into a small bow, Knockout replied, "But of course, my liege."

As soon as the tyrant had exited the cell the drones were advancing on her, pushing her toward a corner. Unwilling to let herself be herded, Arcee struck out at one of them with a pede, though having her arms restrained made balancing difficult. She missed, and before she could make a second attempt they were upon her, pushing her to the ground and pinning her there. The red mech's syrupy voice came from above her, and she twisted her helm to glare up at him.

"Lights out, little two-wheeler," he snickered, twirling the long, white prod in his hand.

He jabbed it viciously into her back strut, and pain enveloped her briefly before she was once again swallowed by the darkness.

 **Hope you enjoyed the second installment. Not as long as the first, I know, but chapter lengths will vary throughout the story.**


	3. Chapter 3

**This is where it starts getting a little dark.**

She regained consciousness slowly, hating the ache in her joints. Though, if what she'd experienced thus far was any indication, she imagined she would have to get used to it. Her optics flickered online, and she took a brief moment to assess her new surroundings. Another cell, though from the looks of it a much larger one.

She flexed her servos, finding they were no longer bound together. She was, however, strapped to a berth, and next to her was a table littered with all manner of devices. Some she had never seen before, others she was familiar with, though if she had to guess she would assume they were all used for the same purpose.

Arcee grit her denta, reminding herself that this was not the first time she would be subjected to such treatment at Decepticon servos. She'd dealt with Starscream, and she'd dealt with Airachnid… she could handle this. She had to.

She half expected the damn tyrant to stroll in at any given moment, but as she lay there, glaring toward the doors, nothing happened. Several kliks passed by and still there was no sign of him. Venting in frustration, the two-wheeler averted her optics.

'Think about the ones you're fighting for,' she told herself firmly, settling as she recalled all of their faces. Tailgate, Cliffjumper, Jack, Miko, Raff… they had all been such beautiful parts of her life. They were gone, but she would fight to the bitter end so that the future they had dreamed of might one day become a reality.

The dark walls of her cell faded, towers of shimmering silver rising up in their place. She remembered their home planet as it had been once, before the war had ravaged it, bright and beautiful and ever-glowing. She remembered gazing up at the moons, a pair of strong arms wrapped loosely around her middle.

" _You're overthinking,"_ he had told her.

" _Who says I'm thinking about anything?"_

" _I can tell; you're wearing that look. Don't worry so much, Cee."_

" _We're at war, Tailgate, of course I'm worried."_

Arcee remembered his gentle servos as he turned her toward him, his calm expression as he gazed down at her.

" _When the time comes, we'll do what we need to do. For now, you're here with me, so no more worrying tonight."_

Tailgate had always had a way of diffusing her concern - disarming her temper, his calm demeanor making her anxiety dissipate into nothing. She remembered smiling at him as he bent his helm toward her, rising up onto the tips of her pedes to meet him half way.

Her spark fluttered warmly at the memory before her mindscape shifted. Scorched, red rock and endless desert stretched out in all directions. A familiar figure materialized next to her - horns and all.

" _Have I ever told you about the time Jazz and I combed the Sea of Rust for the Lightning Strike Coalition?"_

" _And you managed to sneak through an entire battalion of Decepticon soldiers by yourself after the two of you separated? You may have mentioned that one a time or two."_

His laughter had always lifted her spirits; the sound of his voice as he regaled her with tales of his many exploits was a comforting constant.

" _I think you're running out of stories, Cliffjumper,"_ she would tease.

Without missing a beat, he'd retaliate, _"Me, running out of stories?! Impossible."_

The smooth timbre of his voice echoed in her processor, and he smirked at her as his image faded, and for a moment she was alone atop the platform of their old base, gazing out at the horizon. Then another, much smaller being stepped up alongside her.

" _You wanna go for a ride?"_

" _Sounds good, partner."_

For a human child, Jack had been wise beyond his years, his uncanny ability to read her moods and respond accordingly surprising her to no end. He knew when to talk, and when to be silent. He knew what to say and how to say it. He understood that sometimes his presence alone was all that was needed to keep her grounded. The joy they both shared during those long, quiet drives… those were some of her favorite memories.

Thoughts of them gave her strength, and she held tightly to the images as they danced through her processor, letting them fill her up with warmth and hope. She wouldn't give in, she couldn't. For them she would make it through, for them she would never forget herself. Megatron could do his worst, she would not break.

Then, as though conjured by her thoughts, the warmonger made his entrance, and she steeled herself, staring up at nothing.

"I apologise for keeping you waiting," he purred as he neared her prone form. He stopped next to the berth, gazing down at her for a moment before his optics wandered toward the array of devices on the tray next to her. Lifting a brow ridge, he asked, "Will you save yourself the pain? Pledge your allegiance to me now, and denounce your former allies?"

Arcee said nothing, lip components tightening as she refused to meet his probing stare.

A wicked grin split his faceplate. "Good. I would have been rather disappointed with you otherwise."

He slipped around her, one massive servo lifting to hover over the collection of torture implements. "Where should we begin, I wonder? Do you have a preference, or should I choose?"

Again she was silent, her focus fixed upon the ceiling.

The tip of a claw traced the edge of each tool, finally stopping on one. "Perhaps we should start with something simple, and work our way up?"

Her refusal to acknowledge him humoured Megatron greatly. The willful Autobot was silent now, but he would fill every room and corridor of Darkmount with her cries before the solar cycle was over. Grin spreading, he settled his gaze on a familiar device, lifting it reverently before letting his optics slide back over his captive. "I believe we will start with my favorite. Is that acceptable to you?"

She sneered. "Whatever. Get on with it."

He stepped back around the table, flanking her right side. With his free servo he pressed pinched claws against her chestplate, and ever so gently he spread his digits, the plating beneath them sliding apart, revealing her pulsing spark to his greedy stare.

Arcee choked on a gasp, most of her bravado wavering almost instantly. There had been no resistance, the metal clicking open with ease. "How did-?!"

The warlord laughed as she struggled with her words, explaining, "I had Knockout take the liberty of making a few alterations. There is not a single part of you that you can hide from me now; your frame is mine to peruse."

She tried desperately to close the plating, straining to hide herself from him. Nothing. The more she struggled the more his twisted grin spread, and the frantic two-wheeler had never felt more vulnerable or violated in all her life. When he reached toward her again, she seethed, "Don't!"

His glowing optics flared, servo sliding ever closer. From her position strapped to the berth she could not see the tips of his claws as they neared her chassis, but she could _feel_ them. The instant one thick talon grazed the lining of her spark chamber a shot of unwanted sensation coursed through her system. She had to nearly bite her own glossa off to keep herself from moaning.

A rasping chuckle poured from his voicebox, and he scraped the edge of her lining again. Watching her fight the pleasure he knew she was experiencing sent a thrill through his spark.

The desperate femme tried again, but her efforts yielded the same result. The feeling of his touch was repulsive. How dare he tamper with something that was meant to be so sacred?! How dare he take such liberties with her body?! She had expected so many horrid things from the dark mech, but not this.

Megatron drank in the sight of her pulsing spark, feeling his own quicken. He gave the sensitive casing one final stroke before looking up at her face, delighting in the torn expression on her lovely faceplate. "Not a sound; I'm rather impressed, Autobot. Though, given your reputation and my own personal experience with your stubborn nature, I do not find it surprising."

He flexed his servo careful around the device he held, and again her view was blocked as he lowered it toward her exposed spark. The look he wore was terrifying - deranged and anticipatory all at once.

"But I tire of your silence. I want to hear you scream."

She felt a sharp pinch at the base of her spark chamber, where a cluster of sensory nodes were bundled. And then… pain, blinding and all-consuming pain. She couldn't have stopped the shrill cry that was wrenched from her vocaliser if she'd tried. Every inch of her went rigid, and she arched so sharply she was certain she'd damaged her back struts. It felt as though she would come apart at the joints, her frame seemingly trying to tear itself apart.

The Decepticon Lord watched the entire ordeal with a pleased grin.

Arcee wasn't entirely sure how long her torment lasted before it ebbed, but when it did she was left shaking, her frame clattering loudly against the berth.

Megatron glanced at the tool in his servo. "A rather ingenious device, wouldn't you say? I have yet to be disappointed with its results."

She tried to speak, tried to curse his name, but all that came out was an unintelligible jumble of shuddering sounds.

He locked optics with her. "There will come a time when you will tire of this, when you quake at the very notion of enduring any more. When that time comes, you will be all too happy to bow to my whims."

Her control over her functions was reduced greatly, and she hadn't even the strength to shake her helm at his bold declaration.

"For now, however, this will suffice."

The two-wheeler reminded herself of her comrades, out there still - fighting the good fight. She would endure! Even the most excruciating torment could be endured so long as there was promise of reprieve in the end. Eventually he would tire of this, or she would slip into stasis lock. Either way, it would have to end sooner or later.

Another piercing scream was ripped from her as the pain flared up again, and she felt herself pull savagely against her restraints. She was damaging herself with her frantic thrashing, she could tell, but there wasn't a thing she could do to stop it. Coherent thought, at this point, was impossible.

Her captor allowed her brief periods of rest every so often, switching the device off just long enough to ensure she did not slip under. He was diligent in his observation of her, ceasing only when her spark began to flicker wildly.

It felt like an eternity had passed, but finally her vision began to fade, and even when he ceased his ministrations it did not halt her descent into darkness. Arcee gave a whimpering sigh as oblivion welcomed her with open arms.

Megatron detached the wiring from her limp form, setting aside the tool as he summoned his medic. His servos slid over her parted plating, feeling the dim warmth radiating from her weakly beating spark. With a final, possessive glance at the shimmering blue orb, he slid the armor back into place.

Knockout entered the room, stopping to dip into a small bow before inquiring, "What can I do for you, my liege?"

"She requires attention," he replied sharply, motioning to the slender blue femme. "See to it that she is repaired and ready as soon as possible."

"As you command, Lord Megatron."

The towering silver tyrant watched as the doctor unstrapped his prostrate captive, a drone shuffling in to lift her effortlessly from the berth. He shadowed Knockout closely down the dimly lit corridor, and Megatron's optics followed them both until they were gone from his sight.

Pleasure spiralled darkly through his being. While he had known she would scream – they all did – the sound of her pain had been more satisfying than he could've ever surmised. Anticipation coiled through him at the prospect of their next _meeting_ , and his gaze slunk back to the berth where he would have her again, where he would make her _writhe_ for him… over… and over… and over... until she shattered. The Decepticon Lord imagined she would break so very beautifully…

 **I should probably mention that if this bothered you… it's just the tip of the iceberg. Consider this fair warning.**

 **What did you think?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Time for more fun.**

His gaze slid carefully over her form, inspecting, pleased when he found all evidence of their previous _time together_ was gone. Knockout had done his job well. While the warlord enjoyed leaving his mark upon her body, he did not want the femme permanently damaged. She was such a pretty little thing, and he intended to keep it that way.

A wicked smile split his faceplate as he continued to regard her, thrilled with her resistance thus far. He'd seen battle hardened mechs - several times her size - break under the kind of torture she had endured, but still she remained unmoved. The will of this one, the _defiance_ she showed delighted him to no end. He hadn't had this much fun in a _long_ time.

But she had rested enough. It was time to rouse her.

Arcee came screaming into wakefulness when a hot jolt of electricity rattled up her back strut. Her denta gnashed together, and she clenched them hard as the sensation continued, making her arch against her restraints. When the pain finally abated, she wasted no time in turning her head to glower up at the one responsible for her agony.

Megatron smiled genially down at her, an expression that looked horribly out of place on his scarred face.

"Are you well rested?"

She snarled at his mocking query, thrashing in her bindings, trying to get a servo free so she could clock him. Or gouge his optics out. Or _something_.

"I felt we could try something a little more traditional this time," he went on in pleasant tones, scrutinising the energon prod in his servo.

Arcee was reminded instantly of Knockout's choice weapon, though his was obviously meant for combat. The one Megatron held now was smaller, but no less painful. 'Meant for torture.'

"Bite me!" she hissed venomously.

Megatron chuckled at the odd phrase; something she'd picked up from her _former_ human allies no doubt. Though, not the most well thought-out insult, considering her circumstances _and_ her tormentor.

He flashed an anticipatory grin, one that was all teeth, and Arcee instantly regretted her choice of words. With the way he was leering down at her, she feared he might actually bend down and take a sizeable chunk out of her. The two-wheeler braced herself for the pain she knew would inevitably follow, the memories of his last _visit_ still fresh in her processor.

While she knew she didn't look it, she felt like scrap. That was how _he_ wanted it, she was sure. They'd made it a routine of sorts. Megatron would arrive and inflict all manner of unspeakable torment upon her, she would go under, and then Knockout would fix any damage that had been left from the tyrant's _handling_. Yet, aside from the most necessary treatment, the smarmy red 'Con never gave her the sort of medical attention she _truly_ needed. She was left teetering on the edge of near unconsciousness at all times, denied ample recharge and given the bare minimum for energon rations. Her life had become a blur; the only thing tethering her to the waking world was the pain.

Streams of agony slithered across all her chassis, out to the tips of her extremities and back again. Her helm throbbed, sensors flashing in warning. It wasn't long before she felt herself beginning to overheat, circuits popping here and there, making light explode behind her optics.

Megatron watched with vicious excitement as his captive's helm was wrenched back, the sounds that came tumbling from her voicebox high and pained and frantic. It was positively mesmerising to behold. He took a quick glance at the monitor to his left, noting that her vitals were spiking.

The abrupt removal of the device had her reeling, trying to curl in on herself instinctually. Her bindings held fast, and she could do little more than twitch, her screams reduced to an unintelligible whimpering.

"Are you prepared to yield to me?" Megatron asked with a smirk, already knowing what her answer would be.

It took a great deal of effort on her part to stop the shaking, and an even greater amount to form words. "N-n-never, you f-filthy piece of s-slag."

The laugh that erupted from him was so loud it startled her, and she tried to flinch away when he bent, his faceplate mere feet from hers. He reached out with his talons, grazing her neck cables and down over her chest plate.

"Such spirit, even in the face of duress!"

She hated his voice, hated his face, hated his piercing red eyes that seemed to spear straight through her. More than any of that, she hated the _fear_ he inspired in her. There were few who could claim such a feat, but Megatron was undoubtedly at the top of that list, eclipsing even Airachnid in her mind now.

"I d-don't want your attention!" she hissed, her voice still strained. "Just end m-me now and be done with it!"

He rose to his full, towering height, engulfing her in his enormous shadow. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that, little one. You _have_ my attention, and you shall suffer for it. I will _shatter_ that indomitable resolve of yours, rip it to pieces, and take great pleasure in watching your transformation."

When he brought forth the prod again she grimaced, but willed herself not to look away from his grinning countenance. She wouldn't back down that damn easy! Arcee was no stranger to pain, and if this was all he had planned for her, she would fight him… forever, if need be. Even a being with a near endless lifespan would eventually grow bored, and when that day came and he struck her down in a rage, she would be victorious.

 **Unfortunately for our two-wheeler, Megatron can be pretty creative. I'm sure he has a lot more up his proverbial 'sleeve' than she thinks. :/**


	5. Chapter 5

**Progression…**

Solace was not something Arcee experienced often, so when she woke gradually (as opposed to being wrenched abruptly from recharge with a torture implement), she was pleasantly surprised. The two-wheeler turned as much as she was able in her restraints, doing a sweep of the room.

Empty. _Good_.

She let herself bask in the peaceful silence, knowing it might be broken at any time.

'How long has it been?' she wondered – not for the first time. It didn't really matter, she supposed. Her mission remained unchanged. She would wait out the clock; continue resisting until one of two things occurred. Either he would grow bored and frustrated and eventually kill her, _or_ a way out of this Primus-forsaken place would present itself. While the latter was preferable, either outcome meant victory for her, and defeat for her detestable captor. A small part of her really hoped she would escape, so that she could enjoy his undoubtedly furious expression.

She busied herself thinking about what the others might be doing. Bumblebee would have likely assembled what remained of the survivors by now, and it was possible that new 'Bots were arriving daily. For all she knew there was a small army standing against the Decepticon threat. The notion made a brief smile flicker over her lip components. She hoped to see them all again one day, even if it was just a glance.

The door to her cell slid open with a faint hiss, a familiar shadow falling over her. She grimaced as traces of fear flared to life within her, but she beat them back, steeling herself once more.

Arcee gave him the full force of her glare as he approached, and she noted with equal amounts of interest and anxiety that he seemed a little more rigid than he usually was; his countenance a tad more austere. She watched as his expression morphed into one of anticipation, but the underlying tension remained.

"I do hope you were not lonely in my absence," Megatron rumbled, prowling around her.

She scoffed. 'Not likely.'

"I will make up for lost time, rest assured,"

'Something unexpected,' the femme mused. Only the most pressing of matters ever kept him from partaking in his favorite hobby. One thing in particular came to mind – the only thing she imagined that would truly displease him.

The warlord perused the variety of devices he'd yet to try on her, humming in approval when he made his decision.

"Are they giving you trouble… the Autobots?"

His optics widened marginally, but it was enough to let her know she'd hit the mark. When he turned a warning glare in her direction she grinned.

"They're going to destroy you."

Megatron sneered as he turned, preparing the device he'd selected. "You give them far too much credit. The end is near for your broken little faction."

"We'll see," she challenged, seconds later gasping as she was overcome with pain.

The warlord ensured to draw out her agony as long as he was able. He made her thrash and scream and curse until finally her systems gave out and she collapsed on the platform in an unresponsive heap. He stood over her for a longer while still, staring down at her with a frown gracing his countenance.

She was observant, this one, among the best of the Autobot scouts. He had not expected her to pick out any change in his demeanor, nor to decipher its meaning with such certainty. And to challenge him _still_ , after everything he'd done to her… it was as exciting as it was maddening. She had been here for nearly two orbital cycles, enduring his attention without the slightest waver. He had taken her freedom and given her nothing but pain, and while it thrilled him to watch her squirm, little progress had been made in the way of breaking her. It was time to take a different approach.

He smiled. She was strong, his little captive, but he _would_ crush her resolve. He would make her feel helpless… hopeless… ruined.

 **Not a long one, but it is a bit of a tipping point. Megatron realises brute force alone may not be the answer with this one. So what comes next…?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Long wait! Sorry! This one's a bit short, but hey, it's an update…**

His claws were gentle as he tracked the edge of one costa, trailing further yet to her flanks. Red optics followed their path across her frame, and Megatron smirked as he was reminded yet again of their differences in size. His servo alone was twice the breadth of her middle. The caress roused her, his patience crumbling as anticipation mounted.

Arcee groaned, wishing sorely to slip back into recharge. She felt like slag, but the annoying sensation on her chassis refused to abate. Her helm ached… Primus… _everything_ ached. She couldn't recall ever having felt this terrible.

The annoying tickle continued, and her displeasure spiked as she realized someone was touching her. She tensed, every inch of her frame screaming in protest as she did so, and onlined her optics to glower at the offender.

Nothing. She frowned, glancing around the cell.

'Lights out… is this supposed to be some kind of scare tactic?' she sneered internally. Then, after a brief moment, she thought of something quite distressing. Even in pitch black the glow from her optics should have cast a faint light onto nearby objects. This darkness… it was infinite. Understanding dawned on her.

A sharp, rasping laughter made her jerk, the sound alarmingly close to her audial receptor.

"What the frag have you done?!" she demanded, gnashing her denta as she strained away from where she assumed he was standing.

"Isn't it obvious?" Megatron purred as he began to circle her, applying slight, fleeting touches along her frame at random. Each one had her gasping in terror, tensing and trembling. "I assure you that the process is quite easily reversed… upon my command."

"You bastard!"

Another colourful, human term. He smirked.

"Why?!" she seethed, the word coming out in a wavering hiss. She hated how very afraid she sounded in that moment.

"I've heard that a lack of sight will vastly heighten the other senses; it is a theory I wish to test. So, my dear, you will assist me in indulging my curiosity… and we shall see just how long your boldness lasts."

Arcee could hear him moving, could make out the faint sounds of metal scraping on metal. She vented hard, trying to calm the racing of her spark. When the pain came it was swift and without warning, heat lancing across her side. She cried out, unable to help herself. Another prod came shortly after, followed by another until she felt like she was burning alive. Her sensors were all chiming in warning, her systems overheating rapidly. Having no visual aid to fall back on, the two-wheeler was left drowning in a sea of agony and darkness, unsure of what horrors he was inflicting upon her. All she could do was feel, and while she would never admit it to him aloud, the lack of sight did indeed sharpen her pain. She'd never felt more vulnerable in all her life.

Megatron watched gleefully as she arched from the berth. Restrained and writhing, she made quite the stimulating image. He stored the visual away, cherishing the look of sheer panic on her face. He liked her like this, utterly helpless, completely unable to brace for his assault. The warlord admitted to himself that he did miss staring into her lovely optics, their enticing glow gone. The way they burned as she glared at him, or dilated in agony as she squirmed beneath his administrations. But, he reminded himself, she would eventually be granted her sight back, so long as she gave in to him in the end. He imagined she would be so very beautiful as she looked submissively up at him, fear ever-prevalent in her expression.

The thought made him stiffen instantly, spike swelling against his codpiece. He applied the torture instrument again, grinning in pleasure as she arched her back and screamed for him.

"Judging by your reaction, I believe I can safely assume that the theories are correct," he purred.

She thrashed as he withdrew, snarling, "When you die I hope your spark gets sent to the deepest reaches of the Pit! You deserve nothing less you repugnant - aaaaaaauuuhhh!"

Another application of the device had her choking on her words, the cry practically ripping from her voicebox. When he finally stopped again she was trembling. When she spoke, the words were quieter, but her tone was positively dripping with venom. "I'm going to _kill_ you."

Megatron laughed at the statement. Her brashness was most amusing.

 **Next one will be longer, pinkie promise! Hope you still enjoyed it, even if it was just a tease.**


End file.
